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Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I feel like I should prepare you appropriately for this post because, after reading it, you will know the true depths of my laziness.

And it's DEEP. My laziness.

So, like, prepare yourself. Sit down or get a glass of water to splash on your face or something.

Over the weekend I was lying on the patio with the dog, so I could soak every bit of warmth from the pavers into my winter-chilled soul as possible, all the while watching Bubba pick through our demolished lawn area for remnants of Bermuda grass in his never-ending battle against their prolific rhizomes.

So, the scene is me and the dog lying prone on the patio staring at a sweating Bubba as he shovels and turns about 300 square feet of ground OVER AND OVER looking for signs of live Bermuda grass.

Obviously this is when a great idea dawned on me for which I would need Bubba's help. Because, you know, he's not already busy or anything.

And the great idea involved my old broken and discarded birdbath which I've been reluctant to get rid of because it's solid copper and has begun to age nicely and develop this pretty patina that I feel would be out of place in a dumpster or recycler.

Those places are not the homes of designer decor, after all.

But, despite much thinking on the subject (mostly during times like this, where I'm lying on the ground doing a big hot nothing and Bubba is doing useful things), I hadn't been able to come up with any good ideas for the now-detached-and-impossible-to-remount copper bowl or prong-mounted stand it used to sit atop.

I'd just gotten so sad about it that I'd thrown it between the garage and fence so I could slowly and gently forget about my shame.

I mean, I'd thought about putting just the bowl out into the landscaping, filling it with water, and calling it a birdbath, but then I realized that I'd have to fill it with water all the time to keep the birds interested, but not ever let any water go stagnant lest the mosquitoes become interested and then kill us with their malarial cooties.

And, lord knows, I'm not dragging out the hose every muther effing day just to fill a birdbath.

This was convenient reasoning because it meant that I wasn't going to have to interact regularly with our garden hose to strike a careful balance with the water levels in the bowl enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay meanwhile keeping the birds happy in their special bath. It also meant I could continue being lazy.

Though it did mean that the disenfranchised birdbath parts were going back into the void between the garage and fence and that, likely, one day they were going to make their way into a landfill or recycle bin and that still made me sad.

Until this past Saturday when, during a moment of purposeful lying around (see above), the answer dawned on me and spurned the tutorial you see below.

And while this may not seem like an exciting moment for you (what? your life is so glam?), in my world it was like Mardi Gras.

So, how did I solve this conundrum of the birdbath that manages its own stupid self and lets me save an old yard relic from the recycle bin?

(Heads up, this is where the tutorial starts)

By first digging out the discarded bowl from the void, turning it upside down and vaguely locating the center.

And letting the regularly scheduled sprinkling fill the bowl without me having to do anything else.

(Those disks are a cork I sliced up to give the bees somewhere to sit while they drink so they don't drown.)

Ever.

This guy keeps an eye out for predators. I guess. Mostly it's just funny to have an army man in the birdbath.

So now, three days a week, while the yard is being efficiently drip irrigated, the birdbath will fill with water enough to bathe the birds while keeping it active enough to ward off mosquitoes trying to lay their filthy eggs while I do a big fat nothing.

Which, I think I've proven, is exactly what I prefer to be doing at all times.

Excellent project. Right now, we have one of the drip system gizmos in our birdbath to keep it filled and fresh. Of course that means weird looking tubing running down one edge. I'll have to show my husband your tutorial. Thanks!

Not only do you have an army guy in your bath, you're considerate for bees. Which I hate. I hate bees. I like honey but I'm sure that can easily be made by poor kids in some third world country without bees. ;)

Er...no. The sprinkler emitter is sealed to the drainage hole with silicone, so it doesn't leak out and the water can't drain back into the sprinkler head because it's a bubbler type, so there's no reverse-action going on.

But, but, I don't have a sprinker (I prefer to let my lawn go to weeds, apparently). I keep thinking I ought to be able to set up some sort of loop system thing that moves the water through the bowls via gravity. No? Too hopeful? Too lazy?

[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.